But I've learned a lot. A very knowledgeable appliance salesman put an end to the handle-up v. handle-down wars of dishwasher utensil loading. And the winner is? Handle UP. Because your hands should never contact the food surface. (I always thought it was so your hands don't get cut or sticky, and the one time every 6 months you might have to re-wash a spoon is worth it).
I've also learned that I too can be easily suckered by appearance. I just love this Thermador wall oven, because of its nice handy beefy knobs and great features, but especially because of the cute analog clock right smack dab in the middle. Aww. Then I saw the price and just about had a heart attack. I'm going to indulge myself, but not that much! Knobs are a must though, most ovens have touch-screens and I've had it with that.
I went to an open house today, at a brand-new house, just to calibrate what you get in a kitchen of a $1.8M house. Not bad, but it has lots of things I don't want (dark cabinets, chimney-style range hood, double sinks, oven/microwave in one unit, 2nd prep sink), and lacks some details I'd really like (tile niche above the cooktop). And the cabinets were too high, just like in my current kitchen. My kitchen won't be completely designed around the fact that I'm 5'1", but I sure would like to be able to reach the 2nd shelf without tippy-toes.
The crucial element to making so much progress in choosing kitchen appliances was Peggy. She came early Saturday afternoon so Dave and I could make it to an appointment at an appliance store, to Katrina's delight. Now I can play outside allll afternoon!
Even though this poor old truck has lost its rear wheels, Katrina liked it so much that when I tried to pick her up for a brief Mommy-Baby bonding moment, she let out the most furious ear-piercing defiant SHRIEK you can imagine from such a tiny little person. This wasn't sad longing, this was outraged full-body heart-and-soul protest. Well, heaven forbid I come between her and her pathetic little truck!
I needed the hug. I'd just come from a very very sad memorial service for a 2004 mom I didn't know well, but liked tremendously. As did the hundreds of other tearful mourners at the service. She was much too young and energetic and giving and wonderful to fall victim to a sudden stroke at age 35. Nothing was more heartbreaking than her 3-year-old daughter crying "Daddyy...!" and running to the sobbing bereaved husband, right in the middle of his remembrance talk. The tragedy is overwhelming, the loss devastating, the search for "meaning" futile. I found cold solace in Katrina's rejection of my affection, as she pointedly and insistently reminded me that life goes on. I just wasn't quite ready for that reminder yet.
Not only does life go on, but it changes drastically. Tomorrow, Julian goes to a new place. Katrina goes to a familiar place, but for much longer. I don't start work until Wednesday, leaving me precious spare hours to get many things taken care of. Not the least of which is one last long run at Rancho San Antonio. I just don't know how that's going to happen after I start work. That last run might be what I need to lift my heavy heart.
11/4/07
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